


Crack Fic 100x Combo

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crack, Domestic, Fire, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Paranormal Investigators AU, Pickup Lines, Venice, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:06:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic a day, for 100 days.</p><p>All will be written from prompts generated <a href="http://madnessmantra.zxq.net/homestuck/prompt.html">here</a>. No matter how insane the characters or scenario I'm given are, it <em>will</em> be done.</p><p>Probably going to be mostly short fics, with varying levels of seriousness -- from fairly normal fics to all-out insanity. You have been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirk's Bro ♦ Sollux, Parenting

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]  
TA: hey, a22hole.  
TG: oh look who it is  
TA: god dammiit 2triider, ii need your help.  
TG: is it mituna again  
TA: got iit iin one.  
TA: liittle fucker'2 been cryiing up a 2torm all niight.  
TG: its probably teething again  
TG: give him a rusk or two and hell be fine  
TG: and make sure hes not dehydrated  
TG: thats gonna be a big problem in summer  
TA: thank2, dude.  
TA: but, ii gotta a2k.  
TA: how do you know 2o much about babiie2 recently?  
TA: oh waiit, ii know: they're the iintended audiience for the 2BAHJ moviie2.  
TA: they're probably the only people who can par2e that jpeggy junk for the DEEP 2YMBOLIIC ME22AGE2 you iin2ii2t are hiidden wiithiin.  
TA: that, or iit 2tunt2 theiir development forever. actually, iit'2 probably that.  
TG: so let me just get this straight  
TG: this is you admitting babies have a better grasp of irony than you do  
TA: fuck you, you haven't an2wered my que2tiion.  
TG: yeah but youll just think its dumb  
TG: another one of my mad millionnaire plans  
TA: iit'2 not another fuckiing mar2 colony, ii2 iit?  
TG: nah  
TG: im stopping with the outer space shit for good i think  
TG: i dont think anythings topping the lifesize jpeg replica of saturn  
TA: that 2hiit ii2 a menace.  
TA: iimagiine iif an aliien come2 acro22 that thiing. and iit'2 theiir fiir2t encounter wiith humaniity.  
TA: and they thiink forever that we're the biigge2t bunch of braiindead ape2 that ever evolved out of the priimordiial 2oup.  
TG: there could not be a better ambassador for our species  
TA: that'2 a22umiing that there are actually aliien2 iin exii2tence two come acro22 your 2pace junk.  
TA: and you haven't exploded theiir xenobraiin2 already wiith your retarded 2en2e of humor.  
TG: no  
TG: aliens exist  
TA: bull2hiit.  
TA: unle22 you were braiinwa2hed by aliien2 at biirth two 2end the re2t of u2 2piiralliing iintwo 2tupiidiity, actually that make2 quiite a lot of 2en2e when ii thiink about iit.  
TG: look  
TG: all im saying is  
TG: i got a self sufficient colony on mars  
TG: where youll be safe  
TG: hell ill even put you in one of the areas without artifacts if you want  
TA: bro, you've got to 2top iit wiith your apocalyp2e ob2e22iion.  
TA: ii'm 2eriiou2, 2ome of the thiing2 you've done go waaaay beyond hollywood eccentriiciity.  
TG: not beyond hopywood eccentricity tho  
TA: no, nothiing goe2 beyond hopywood eccentriiciity.  
TA: although that'2 le22 eccentriiciity and ju2t plaiin iin2aniity.  
TA: and agaiin: what ii2 the babiie2 ob2e22iion for?  
TG: well  
TG: youre not the only one bringin up a son  
TA: holy 2HIIT, you have a 2on?  
TA: wa2 iit wiith lalonde?  
TA: ii'm bettiing you a miilliion buck2 iit wa2 wiith lalonde.  
TG: nah  
TG: i mean id be all over tapping that sweet ass if she wasnt into chicks  
TG: but it isnt with rose  
TG: or anybody  
TA: you know the paper2 are 2preadiing rumor2 that you're related.  
TA: liike, long lo2t twiin2 or 2omethiing.  
TA: and you two are 2o aliike, ii actually wouldn't be 2urprii2ed.  
TG: if she was my sister i wouldnt be sayin how hot she was would i  
TG: im not that messed up  
TG: nah i can safely ogle that rump all i want without a trace of guilt for all time  
TA: hang on, what do you mean not wiith anybody?  
TG: im not actually sure how hes related to me  
TG: son feels weird to say actually  
TG: ill probably make him my lil bro  
TG: always wanted a lil bro  
TA: what the fuck.  
TG: yeah youre gonna think im insane again arent you  
TG: but he lives over four centuries in the future  
TA: ...  
TA: iit'2 offiiciial. you've lo2t iit.  
TA: 2omeone fetch me a 2traiitjacket.  
TA: 2eriiou2ly, bro, you 2hould get help for all the2e weiird delu2iion2 you keep haviing.  
TG: it was rose who told me actually  
TA: 2HE 2hould get help.  
TG: yeah she probably should  
TG: but not for that reason  
TG: it was in one of her visions  
TG: i get a boy and she gets a girl  
TG: living in the ruins of the apocalypse which is ACTUALLY REALLY GOING TO HAPPEN  
TG: she put together a pic for me of how his room looked to her  
TG: [check this shit out ](http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120116034324/mspaintadventures/images/c/c5/Dirk%27s_room.gif%22)  
TG: thats my lil bro  
TG: or descendent or whatever  
TA: ii don't even know what ii'm lookiing at here FUCK.  
TA: ii feel liike ii'm wiitne22iing the aftermath of 2ome 2ort of 2hiittiine22 war.  
TA: wiith two truckload2 of REALLY FUCKIING DII2TURBIING on top.  
TG: yeah some of that shit looks freaky to the untrained eye  
TG: but if thats how he flexes his irony muscles then i can hardly fault the guy  
TG: hes gotta spread his wings man  
TG: cut his own ironic path through life  
TA: thii2 ii2 probably the clo2e2t ii've come to beliieviing you about thii2 2hiit.  
TA: becau2e iif you diid have a 2on or brother or de2cendent or whatever, he would probably end up liike thii2 fucked up.  
TA: the iidiiot gene2 never mii22.  
TG: yeah well you type like a tool  
TG: oh no wait  
TG: like a twool sorry  
TA: oh no, 2uch a deva2tatiing comeback, ii'm cru2hed.  
TG: i gotta get things ready for him  
TG: its not like i could like zap into the future and raise him myself  
TG: always wished i could time travel  
TG: i gotta get everything hes gonna need growing up prepared for him  
TA: you know, thii2 explaiin2 2O MUCH.  
TG: really  
TA: paparazzii got a 2hot of you orderiing thou2and2 of puppet2. 2aw iit on the cover of 2ome tra2hy mag.  
TG: fuck  
TA: but 2eriiou2ly, bro. puppet2?  
TG: rose saw em so they gotta be there  
TG: cant fuck with predestination  
TA: oh my fuckiing god.  
TA: next you'll be 2ettiing up entiire 2toreroom2 full of orange 2oda for hiim.  
TG: ...  
TG: good idea  
TA: oh no.  
TA: ii ju2t acciidentally 2pawned another one of your crazy 2cheme2 agaiin diidn't ii.  
TA: oh FUCK no.  
TG: too late bro  
TG: orderin up ten thousand bottles of soda as i type  
TA: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  
TG: then theres the name  
TG: i was thinkin of ironically calling him something stupid  
TG: like dick  
TG: dick strider  
TA: no.  
TA: ju2t no.  
TA: you have giiven that probably iimagiinary boy trouble enough.  
TA: you call hiim that and he'd wii2h he'd never been born.  
TA: or came iinto exii2tence however he diid iin your weiird fanta2y.  
TG: yeah  
TG: im probably going with dirk now  
TG: its a type of dagger for maximum awesomeness  
TG: also close enough to dick if he wants to make that joke  
TG: whatever floats the little dudes boat  
TA: ii wiill never under2tand what goe2 on iin your crazy head.  
TG: its not readily comprehensible to mortal minds  
TA: you know what el2e ii2n't?  
TA: miituna.  
TA: there he goe2 agaiin, 2creamiing the hou2e down.  
TG: im telling you man  
TG: rusks  
TG: or just anything to chew on  
TA: got iit.  
TA: 2ee you round, iif the apocalyp2e you keep prediictiing doe2n't get you fiir2t.  
TG: no weve got a few years still  
TA: whatever.  
TA: bye.  
twinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering  turntechGodhead [TG]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm busy a lot these days, so this is just a side project to ensure I keep my hand in and write something every day... no matter how crazy it is.
> 
> I'll generate tomorrow's prompt after finishing each day's fic. As I've just finished this one, the generator says tomorrow's shall be...
> 
> "Clover ♣ Biscuits/Sollux, Venice"
> 
> ... right.
> 
> I'll be updating this fic tomorrow, then, with an ashen troll/leprechaun fic. In Venice.  
> Well, I did say these were going to be crack.


	2. Clover ♣ Biscuits/Sollux, Venice

You could have Venice described to you by a dozen different people and not one of them could quite capture its wonder. History stands tall all around you, the canals run with serenity and two leprechauns and a troll bob past, perched on a floating oven.

"This vacation fucking sucks," the troll gripes.

"Wasn't my fault the gondola sunk," grumbles the larger leprechaun. He's had to sacrifice his beautiful hat for a paddle, and all he can do is watch the troll drag the precious thing through murky water. It'll never be clean again, he silently laments.

"Probably was your fault. Weighed it down with all those tonnes of FUCKING STUPID you're packing."

"It was _my_ fault!" the smallest leprechaun explains, jumping up and down on the oven -- this would probably sink it, were he not too lucky to even have a chance of doing that. "You two couldn't cope without my _tremendous luck_ for one second! Now pipe down and enjoy Venice because it's really really really pretty!"

They oblige. Not because Venice is really really really pretty -- seen one Renaissance building and you've seen 'em all, they both think -- but because Clover's tantrums are irritating beyond belief.

It takes a grand total of ten seconds for someone to break the piping-down rule.

"I'm bored," Biscuits wheezes.

Sollux scoffs. "Not surprised. Leave you alone with what's in your fuzzy green skull for ten seconds and you'll soon realise there's nothing there."

Eager to ensure this doesn't devolve into a fully formed argument, Clover quickly proposes a diversion. "How about I give you a riddle?" He doesn't wait for a reply. "What's round but doesn't roll, Alternian but not a troll, not all truthful but doesn't lie, is immortal but plans to die?"

"Doc Scratch," Sollux answers, barely even needing to think.

"I was going to say that," Biscuits lies.

"Aw," Clover racks his brains for another, coming up with: "Shell as black as night, though named as cold and white. Comes from world of sin, a universe within! Who is it?"

Biscuits screws up his felted forehead in thought until Sollux splashes them both with water from the canal. "This is stupid. I'm not even going two bother answering this."

Clover's cheeks start turning bright red. Rage begins to bubble below his purple hat. Tiny fists clench. Feet start stomping...

A casino looms up in front of them, and suddenly all is forgotten. He grins and leaps up onto solid ground: "Time to go top up the vacation fund!"

Just like last time, their vessel sinks slowly into the canal.

Biscuits stares ahead with the look of serenity only the most truly moronic can muster.

Sollux facepalms all the way down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cookie to the first person who solves Clover's second riddle!
> 
> Tomorrow's prompt is...
> 
> "Sawtooth ♣ Grandpa/Ms. Paint, Hogwarts AU"
> 
> ... I just burst out laughing in the middle of a bus. This is going to be _fun._


	3. Sawtooth ♣ Grandpa/Ms. Paint, Hogwarts AU

Charms class. No avoiding it any longer. She's read through mountains of books in preparation for her first term of Hogwarts, yet charms still baffle her. Her lisp definitely won't help, nor will the fact that her Hufflepuff class is sharing this lesson with Slytherin.

Sidling into the classroom, Missie Paint bites back her anticipation and hopes all goes well.

The seating is already against her. She's a few minutes late, the school's constantly changing architecture hardly helping her in her cross-castle runs. Hence nearly every seat is taken; she takes the one that isn't.

She doesn't realise who this has sat her next to until the lesson is underway.

Even seeing who her new classmate is doesn't give her any clues to his identity. She knows who he is, but not _what _he is. The tall boy has his hood permanently up, black cloak drawn around his body and mask covering his face. A prominent member of the school's clandestine Rap Club, he is rarely seen otherwise. Most either look on him with admiration or intimidation. Right now, right next to him, she's finding it's the latter.__

Is he even _human?_

In all her confusion, she's somehow missed the professor's name. Professor... Halley? He's speaking now, telling the class about this jolly well fantastic spell that will make any object float like a feather. "Spiffing!" he exclaims, beginning to hand out feathers. Missie doesn't see what's so spiffing about making a feather float like a feather.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" the professor instructs the class. She stutters the incantation; the feather scoots away. On the other hand, the boy next to her charms the feather perfectly: two words perfectly enunciated in that gravelly voice and it soars into the air.

Missie slumps in her chair.

It continues this way most of the lesson. The boy next to her has the charm mastered: soon he's causing the hammers and paperweights he's given to fly. Missie's feather seems to want nothing to do with her, staying on the table even when everyone else's are in the sky.

At long last: "Class dismissed." She jumps out of her chair a little too quickly -- "Miss Paint? Stay behind, please."

Uh oh.

Anxious, she creeps up to the teacher's desk. Professor _Harley_ , she notices: the desk is already cluttered early in the year, several documents having this name emblazoned on them.

"Missie, I must say, I was expecting more gumption than that from a strapping young lass like you!"

"Eep," is her articulate reply.

"Top marks in all your other classes, yet you can't even raise a feather? Consarn it, you should be top of the class!" The old man glares unexpectedly harshly through his glasses; Missie shrinks a little. "None of that here, this is a ruddy good class of Slytherins and I'm not letting the best of my Hufflepuff house hide in their ruddy shadow! More feather practice, dag nab! Chop chop!"

"W-wing-ar..." She can barely even say the thing. Unsurprisingly, the feather doesn't even twitch.

"Missie Paint, you are not leaving this room until you've got that dratted feather moving!"

It's not happening. Shier and more scared than ever, every attempt to speak the incantation comes out as little more than a whisper.

Until a voice sounding eerily like hers does it for her: "Wingardium Leviosa." And the feather flies.

Up it goes, nearly reaching the ceiling, floating back down just before it does so.

Harley peers at her, trying to discern just what happened, before shrugging it off: "You may leave." She does so; he watches, furrowed eyebrows still showing his confusion.

The boy in the black cloak slips through the shadows and follows her out. His tap on her shoulder almost frightens her to death.

"Who are you?" she quivers.

"Sawtooth," her voice replies, then the boy cocks his head and tries again: "Sawtooth," he says in the gravelly voice she thinks of as being his.

"Well, thank you Mister Sawtooth! That was a very tricky situation you got me out of just there!"

He nods and slinks away, disappearing in the dark Hogwarts corridors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tired as S)(-ELL. Must sleep. But before that happens, there's the prompt for tomorrow:
> 
> "Mituna ♣ Grandma/Dad, Domestic"
> 
> My oh my, this generator seems to be loving its auspisticisms and its Captors so far.  
> It shall be done! See you then.


	4. Mituna ♣ Grandma/Dad, Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read whilst listening to [Eternity Served Cold](http://homestuck.bandcamp.com/track/eternity-served-cold). Only this music is suitably DRAMATIC for the DASTARDLY OCCURRENCES in this chapter.

Before the ultimate terror struck, it had just been an ordinary day.

Dad had come home from an exhausting yet fulfilling few hours of stern fatherly business. He'd gone up the stairs to his utilitarian bedroom, containing nothing but the most essential of manly furnishings and paraphernalia. And he'd looked in his wardrobe, ready to be greeted by his lovingly pressed and starched garments, hanging in a row all nicely and neatly for him.

_They weren't there._

The first stage of grief is denial. His stern fatherly work must have tired him to the point where he couldn't see clearly!

Yet prolonged viewing confirmed the worst: his wardrobe, _his **beautiful WARDROBE**_... was _EMPTY._

Henceforth the next stage followed. _Anger._ He was going to _find_ the villain who had committed this heinous crime. And he was going to make them PAY.

In... a stern fatherly chivalrous way. Of course.

Down the stairs he stormed (sternly), a heat-seeking missile ready to seek out and destroy. And he sensed a presence in his house.

_The culprit._

An old woman, whom he vaguely recognised as the founder of SkaiaNet, was at work on _HIS SHIRTS_ with her _blasphemous devices_. As he watched, cold mechanical hands ran steel, modern, _heathen_ irons over his precious belongings. Another set folded them; another set laid them daintily in a casket of **LIES.**

In his horrified state of shock, all he could manage to say was: "I wanted those HAND-PRESSED!"

"This is much more efficient!" the hag chirruped. "And aren't robot hands just as good?"

This woman... she defied all comprehension. No honour, no beauty could be found in hands of metal. She was taking man's pride and glory and _tainting_ it with falsehood.

This.  
 **Would.**  
 ** _Not._**  
 ** _DO._**

A morality crisis flashed through his head. What was more important to him, he wondered? His own code of honour: surely he could not be so impolite to a lady! Or the universal honour of MAN: she was _sullying_ man's perfect creation! This perversion of stern fatherly nature could not be allowed to continue!

It was obvious what he must do. In the name of MAN, he prepared himself --

And two beams of red and blue tore through the walls, incinerating the machinery and exposing the house's interior to the elements.

What _creature_ could have done this?

The very creature who did so entered now, wielding what must surely be some sort of ceremonial implement and not at all a skateboard. His stance was bold and powerful, if you ignore the fact that he barely seemed able to stand up at times. And his words were powerful, shaking the very Earth itself:

_"4R1GHTH YUOU FUCK3R5 TH15TH N33D5 TWO **5THOP!!!!!!!!!!!"**_

The few remaining unpressed shirts drifted to the floor. Crumpled for now, but salvageable in time. Perhaps one day they could be restored to their former glory; Dad thanked this behelmeted savior. His response: "WH4THTT"

As they both stared at whoever this mysterious man was, said mysterious man stared straight back. Visored eyes looked at them, at the ceiling, at the disintegrated machines and finally at the hole he'd made. With two words -- "1M S0RRY" -- he stumbled out the way he had come.

His stages of grief short-circuited by this odd happenstance, Dad gathered the remaining shirts and took them upstairs. He planned to put them under a rigorous restoration: scrubbing, washing, rinsing, ironing, starching and so much more. In time, they could regain their former lustre. In time, they would be repaired sufficiently to show their faces in public once more.

And one day, the shirts could shine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POWERFULLY MOVING SCENES indeed.
> 
> Right, then! Next fic shall beeeeeeeeeeeeee...
> 
> "Dave ♦ Sawbuck, Pickup Lines"
> 
> ... that's bound to go down _brilliantly_. Well, see you there!


	5. Dave ♦ Sawbuck, Pickup Lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late, I know, guilty as charged >:[
> 
> But could I at least plead extenuating circumstances?

Sawbuck is hypnotised. Eyes glazed over, body immobile, he stares at the television screen as some remarkable contraption churns out numbered balls. He has no idea what's going on, but he's too lost in it to care.

"Are you watching the Lottery _again?_ "

Sawbuck made a noise that was probably some sort of affirmation.

"Oh my god."

No response.

"Do you even _play_ the Lottery?"

Again, silence.

"Do you even know what the Lottery _is?_ "

Nothing...

"Right."

Finding himself yanked out of the ratty old armchair, Sawbuck is upset to the point of actually saying discernible words. "Stoppit!"

"Nope. No way. I'm not letting you slob out in front of the telly for the rest of your life." Dave hauls Sawbuck up, dusts him down and folds his arms, ready for business.

"Uh?"

" _We_ are going down to the _pub_ , _you_ are going to pick up _girls_ and _I_ am going to get you _laid._ "

***

There's something just short of a religious gathering crowding one corner of The King's Arms, gazing agog at their holy shrine: the TV showing today's big football match. West Chelsea United vs. Millwall Arsenal Hotspur... who knows? Who cares? Well, they do. While Dave is finding his ability to give a fuck dropping to ground level.

Inches from being transfixed again, Sawbuck has to be dragged away from the mesmerising spectacle of 'guys kicking a ball about'. " _Girls,_ " Dave reminds him. And sure enough, there's a gaggle of girls lounging on one of the sofas, seemingly unattached to any of the footie guys there.

Dave gives his new protegé some parting words of advice: "Remember what I told you. The pickup lines are ironic. Yeah, you may think they're alright, but they're actually crafted entirely from steaming piles of shit. So deliver with a smirk and a wink, like you know how they're the biggest piles of shit that ever got shat, and you're all the cooler for knowing. Got it?" And with a shove, Sawbuck is sent stumbling towards his targets.

So Sawbuck takes aim, awkwardly sidling up to a girl bellowing 'I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles'. Finger on the pickup trigger: "If I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put me and U together... no, wait..."

And the pickup gun backfires in his face. The gun in this metaphor being the girl, punching him. In the face.

The momentum of the punch has landed him face-first in another girl's lap. She stares at him as if he's some kind of alien; he decides this would be an auspicious time to start another pickup attempt. "Do you sleep on your do? Do you mind if I... no, wait, sleep on your front, do you --"

Unceremoniously shoved off onto the floor, he decides one last try can't hurt: taking one of the girls' feet into his hands, he serenades it with one last pickup proverb: "What's a nice girl like you doing with a face like that --" Suddenly the foot finds itself in his own face.

Dave's seen enough. Dragging his roommate out of the fray, he plonks him down on a seat and winces.

"Wanna go back home and watch the Lottery?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was almost finished on this late last night... 99% asleep and barely functioning, but almost finished! Until my browser went and BLEEDIN' WELL CRASHED IN MY FACE... D:  
> Must've been the final straw for my brain, that, because it just sorta went "NOPE" and I fell asleep there and then. So yeah, I missed the deadline. :C  
> But I shall endeavour to be on time whenever possible! (Except that two-week trip of mine _sans internet connection_ to Land of Pocky and Endless Vending Machines -- aka. Japan -- in a couple of weeks' time might disrupt things a bit. Just warnin' ya now.)  
>  (Another thing I should probably bring up: my computer's mouse has squeaked its final squeak; currently I am haphazardly navigating my computer with the spawn of Satan that is MouseKeys. I'd probably be very good at drawing Caliborn-style this way, but any other pictures are out of the question. The reason I bring this up? Starsignstuck Chapter 10 was going to be 100% pictures. Yeeeeeeah... so that's gonna be delayed.)
> 
> ANYHOO. It looks like my insatiable Britishness has permeated this fic... I got the idea of Dave and Sawbuck going down to the pub, thought that might be a bit too British... then somehow flipped the exact opposite way. FEAR ME, FOR I HAVE GONE FULL BRITISH. (Lady English?)  
> The first draft, now lost to the sands of time, was even MORE British, believe it or not. Contained Dave going on a massive rant about _Eastenders_ an' all. Perhaps it's a good thing that was forcibly cut, seeing as I'm probably the only one who actually knew what he was talking about.
> 
> So! For tomorrow, then )and hopefully on schedule, this time):  
> "Kanaya ♦ Eridan, Paranormal Investigators AU, Fire"  
>  **PERFECTION BEYOND BELIEF.**  
>  I do have to be off now, but this prompt is a thing of beauty and it SHALL be written.  
> See ya!


	6. Kanaya ♦ Eridan, Paranormal Investigators AU, Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bluh bluh AO3 doing weird things. First refusing to publish the chapter but making it look updated anyway, then giving me errors! It's bad enough with MSPA constantly 503ing. And AO3 doesn't even have any meditating gurus to varnish the server cache! For shame, AO3. For shame.

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling  grimAuxilatrix [GA]  
CA: you nearly got the fire out then kan  
CA: kan  
CA: kan  
CA: is the fire almost out yet  
CA: answwer me  
GA: No Not Yet  
GA: A Sizeable Portion Of The Building Is Still Undergoing Combustion  
GA: And Forgive Me If My Responses Seem Tardy But I Do Happen To Be In The Thick Of It  
GA: After All My Hand Has Been Forced To Complete This Section Of The Mission Alone  
CA: wwell im not goin in there am i  
CA: im a seadwweller id probably evvaporate  
CA: youd be wwithout a moirail an a business partner an THEN wwhat wwould you do  
GA: Well I Suppose My Ears Would Emerge From The Ordeal All The Better From Not Having To Entertain Your Constant Wwhining  
CA: listen  
CA: i dont make you go on sea missions do i  
CA: remember the one wwith the mermaid  
CA: you missed out on some fuckin quality time in the companionship a one insanely beautiful girl  
GA: Insanely Is An Accurate Adverb To Be Using Here  
CA: an let me tell you  
CA: wwe wwere gettin pretty fuckin companionate dowwn there if ya knoww wwhat i mean  
GA: I Know Perfectly Well What You Mean  
GA: The Fact Remains That You Were Down There For Days  
GA: If I Hadnt Enlisted The Services Of The Brownblood With The Orca You Would Still Be Trapped  
CA: yeah wwhyd you got to go an do that  
CA: i wwas HAPPY dowwn there kan  
GA: You Do Know She Was Almost Certainly Going To Kill You At Some Point  
CA: youre just jealous because i fucked a mermaid an you didnt  
GA: While You Were In Mortal Danger  
GA: I Doubt There Is Much Merit In Discussing The Subject Further  
GA: Despite All This Your Point Regarding My Not Going On Sea Missions Remains Valid  
GA: Yet I Must Request That You Leave Me To My Own Mission For The Time Being  
GA: I Am Still In The Midst Of An Inferno If You Recall  
CA: fine fuck  
CA: ill lay off a wwhile  
GA: Thank You  
GA: I Shall Contact You When You May Make Safe Entry

***

The flames were only intensifying as Kanaya ventured further in. This wasn't any ordinary fire: no amount of water would put this out. No, this was something unnatural. And all the more dangerous for it.

But that wasn't too worrying. After all, that was why she was here.

Through her protective suit and rainbow drinker resilience combined, she still suffered most of the fire's full force. The flames were phasing from blue-hot to white-hot: this must be near their source.

Were those screams of pain she heard?

Following the sound, she crept low along smoke-filled corridors. Her determination had redoubled: if there was someone to save, then she couldn't dally any longer.

The screams got louder, more urgent, as if their throats were being torn from their bodies with the sheer effort of making the sound. Yet they were closer, too: Kanaya calmed her normally nigh-unflappable mind with the reassurance that they'd be rescued soon.

Just behind that door. Just turn the handle and you're there, you can save them, she thought.

Somehow she missed the fact that the handle was cool to the touch. That should have been her first clue.

In she raced, ready to save those in need, instead seeing an empty room. Empty, save for one female figure glowing brighter than any of the flames.

"Hello, Kanaya," the rainbow drinker drawled.

She'd never met any others of her kind before. Of course, she was intrigued. But her duty overrode this, at first: "I heard screams. How many people are still remaining in this building, and where may they be found?"

"Two. You and me. Right here." She smirked, baring a fang. "No one was ever in any danger here, Kanaya. The building was abandoned. The call was faked. And the screams?" She opened her mouth, almost lazily yawning out the cries of dozens of people. "We were only after you."

Kanaya was fearful; the drinker sensed this and laughed. "I already told you! No one's in danger, especially not you. In fact, you could be considerably better off after our little rendez-vous here."

She approached. Hands swooshed her voluminous hair to the side; luminous hips swayed as she came near. Kanaya darted her eyes around the room, to the ceiling, to the wall, to the flames still flickering and fluttering: anything to avoid the looming, alluring curves of her fellow drinker.

"We have a sisterhood. A dozen of us, far from the burden of the auxiliatrices, living our own free lives as we wish. And we've heard so much about you! A rainbow drinker out on her own, making her way in the world. You've managed a lot, and we know it's not easy. But there are some things you can't do alone," she purred.

No avoiding it now: the woman filled Kanaya's vision, and it was a sight to behold. Obviously this sisterhood didn't have much material for clothes...

"Come with me, Kanaya. You'll love it. No responsibilities to fulfil, no standards to live up to. We do as we will. Our every need catered for, our every want... _utterly_ satisfied."

"Might I... Might I get back to you later concerning membership of this sisterhood?" Her normally enunciated words were full of stumbles and slips; this woman's body was _awfully_ close...

"You want to leave after barely even saying hello?" She chucked, shook her head and took Kanaya's chin in her long fingers. "Oh, my dear, so impolite! At least let me give you something to remember me by..." The fingers danced from chin to somewhere... significantly lower. Well. If she insisted on putting it that way, then it _would_ be rude to refuse, wouldn't it? She didn't have to tell anyone about this. And if they somehow found out, she was coerced! Not her doing! None of her fault.

No one would ever know. Especially not Eridan.

***

From his safe spot outside the building, Eridan noticed the flames flaring brighter. He still hadn't heard from Kanaya, and if the fire was only getting _worse_...

Suddenly the danger meant nothing to him. His moirail was in there. And he'd get her out, even if it meant scorching his fins off.

Grabbing the spare protective suit, Eridan went in.

***

caligulasAquarium [CA] began trolling  grimAuxilatrix [GA]  
CA: you still in treatment kan  
CA: kan  
CA: kan  
GA: Yes Sorry  
GA: Some Of These Bites Are Rather Deep  
CA: i wwoulda wwolf wwhistled there if i wwas wwith you  
CA: just so you knoww  
GA: Please Do Not Wwolf Wwhistle At Me  
GA: Through Text Or Otherwise  
GA: Its Inappropriate  
CA: not half as inappropriate as some a the stuff you wwere doin there  
CA: nevver kneww you had it in ya  
GA: Can We Not Talk About That  
GA: As In  
GA: Not Mention That Incident Ever Again Forever  
CA: yeah like you nevver talked about the mermaid thing again  
GA: Urgh  
GA: Well Now You Know My Side Of The Story In The Mermaid Debacle  
CA: yeah you coulda at least told me you wwere busy  
GA: Yes Well That Could Not Have Been Further From My Mind  
GA: I Apologize  
CA: see wwe aint so different are wwe kan  
GA: No  
GA: You Are Not Doing This  
GA: I Will Not Allow It  
CA: doin wwhat  
GA: Pointing Out That We Have More Similarities Than Differences And Can No Longer Adequately Complement Each Other  
GA: Then Suggesting That Mayhaps We Might Fare Better In The Flushed Quadrant  
GA: I Am Taking The Initiative Here By Declining Preemptively  
GA: Also You Are About To Deny This  
CA: huh  
CA: no  
CA: wwhat are you talking about  
GA: Consider My Point Proven  
CA: kan no thats not fair  
CA: you are a huge bitch you knoww that  
CA: an this is not me flippin black for you GIVVE ME SOME FUCKIN CREDIT  
GA: Okay  
GA: But Rest Assured That These Occasions Shall Remain Rare  
CA: figured as much  
CA: lovve ya kan  
CA: not in that wway  
GA: I Shall Now Type A Diamond Into The Chat Client In Order To Reassure You That I Return The Pale Sentiment  
GA: Behold  
GA: <>  
CA: <>  
caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased trolling  grimAuxilatrix [GA]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to make this feel like an episode of _Supernatural_... I have only ever watched two episodes of _Supernatural_ , and they were the first two. It probably shows.
> 
> Well, seeing as this was already complete yesterday, I may as well do my next one later today to make up for it. To the generator, then, and hopefully it gives me a quadrant that isn't ashen or pale for once:  
> "Bro ♥ Terezi, Wizard of Oz AU, Deities"  
> YES YES YES I LOVE IT. Consider it done!  
> EDIT: ... well, not quite done yet. Running out of time for today, shall have to post tomorrow instead. It'll be worth the wait, though (I hope)! And I'll probably catch up on my backlog over the weekend, thanks Lordlyhour for giving me that idea.


	7. Bro ♥ Terezi, Wizard of Oz AU, Deities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Loved_ this prompt. Though I may have gone a bit far with it.
> 
> (warning for suicide)

The girl ran her cane along the honey road, feeling it skitter across the bricks. Syrupy sunlight shone brightly down; the clouds were perfect cotton candy. And it was faint, but still there: the crisp scent of freshly-mown grass and freshly-squeezed lime. The Emerald City couldn't be far now.

Her cane finding itself diverted from its course, she realised she was at a crossroads. Honey ahead, but scentless grey cobbles to both sides. And waiting at the intersection...

"Hello."

Sniffing in his direction, Terezi tried to get a good picture of the man. Dressed mostly in milky white... mostly milky white otherwise, in fact... just the eyes, the windows to the soul, concealed by windows as black as void.

Curiouser and curiouser, to quote some ridiculous fantasy.

Well, one thing left to ask.

"Who are you?"

"No one." He shrugged off the question, instead substituting his own. "You're going to the Emerald City, aren't you? What for?"

"Nothing." She smirked. "I was bored and it was there."

He'd heard it all before. Wannabe adventurers, full of gusto and bluster, questing for rewards that could never be granted. Perhaps he could turn this girl back home, make sure she didn't waste the journey. He had to do something good, now and again. "No one goes to the Emerald City just because they're bored. Everyone has a reason, something they want the Wizard to fix, even if they don't know it themselves."

"Well, I just wanted him to fix my boredom."

He looked at the girl, young and eager and restless, and he could believe her.

What he wasn't expecting was what came next.

"How about you?"

Adventurers never had a care in the world. Never a care for a lost soul like him. It was odd to have someone curious about him, even if it was such a simple question.

No, he was overthinking this; it was just to fill the space, just to be polite. Any genuine care that might be in there would soon evaporate.

Yet she sensed his silence: "You know what you're talking about, you must've been up there yourself! Come on, I wanna know your story." She sat herself down cross-legged on the Yellow Brick Road, obviously intent on hearing his story before she progressed any further. Okay, genuine curiosity? Or just fixing her boredom? Either way... curiouser and curiouser.

Now he was curious about her. So began the interrogation: "This is the road from the South. Are you from there?"

"Unfortunately. But my story's boring! Give me yours!"

"Unfortunately? Why unfortunately?"

"Because there's nothing to _do_. I was studying law, ready to show those criminals who's boss, but the worst crime I've seen has been the theft of a toothbrush!" A grin. So many teeth, far too sharp to be put to good use in the South. No wonder she was bored.

"I know," he muttered.

"You do?" All he'd done was intrigue her more. She rested her chin on her hands, elbows on thighs, readying herself for a long tale. It seemed that his story was going to be told, one way or another.

So he began.

"I lived there," recalled the man, rooting through memories of his past life. "But that is not my story's beginning, nor its end. It began, if you'll believe me, in the kingdom of the gods." Searching for a sudden reaction in her face, he found nothing but the same old grin. "Yeah, you don't give a fuck whether I'm telling the truth or not, do you." Her reply, unsurprisingly: a grin. "You just want me to entertain you. Fine. But prepare for the best fucking entertainment of your life."

***

The gods have nigh-unlimited power, but they also have rules: written and documented laws that must never be broken & standards and traditions that have always remained unspoken.

One god in particular gained notoriety for his... _manipulation_ of these rules. He would dance around them and over them, playing them like puppets whilst leaping through loopholes. He would splinter, but he would not break. They called him the Destroyer of Souls.

And all this out of boredom. The rules of the gods were meant to constrain them. Yet the God of Heart saw no reason to keep in line with arbitrary expectations: he could never be satisfied with his full potential beyond reach.

So he reached.

The gods' order is a precarious one. One minor god exploiting his power could have toppled his kin like dominoes. Of course, it could not be allowed. Measures needed to be taken.

A plan was devised: they would turn his own divine domain against himself. He would come face to face with his own aspect, then nudge him into breaking it.

It only took a splintering of the rules to peer inside his mind. Then, forged from his dreams, a man was crafted who could meet all his desires and more.

As soon as the god caught a glimpse of this man, his doom was set in stone.

Bewitched with love, he would stop at nothing to claim his desire. Manipulating hearts, as was his talent, proved not to be enough: as a last resort, he seized the man's heart entirely and turned it wholly to him. A rule he'd avoided for so long finally shattered in his grasp.

At last, his enemies had something with which to incriminate him. The trial was brief, unanimous: the God of Heart was guilty, and his name finally struck from the book of gods.

He had been meaning to slow down, anyway: when living a life of splinters, your life itself begins to splinter. Now his hand had been forced, he did the dignified thing: announced his retirement, renounced his powers and settled in the South of Oz.

Yet how could he be happy there? He admired the people for their sheer bliss, yet it didn't reach him! Restless, tireless, constantly alert, there was no way he could possibly rest on his laurels for the rest of eternity and let the sweet atrophy erode all he was.

He wanted peace. He wanted solace. Yet all he got was frustration, irritation and despair.

One last hope. There was talk of a Wizard who could solve any problem you brought before him. Yet his hike up to the Emerald City turned out to have been for naught: when he asked for true rest, all he got was the reassurance that it would come to him in time. This wasn't enough: in his rage, the ex-god unleashed what remained of his powers to try and force a true answer. All he found was that the Wizard had only ever been a fraud. Angry and confused, he fled the city.

If final rest wouldn't come to him, he'd bring it to himself.

There's a long-held tradition where the bodies of those who kill themselves are buried at crossroads, so the soul cannot know which way to go. This immortal soul knew all too well where to go, but why would he? There was nowhere he could.

The God of Heart consigned himself to eternally haunting his crossroads, finding no solace even in death.

***

His story struck straight home.

Like most of the South, she'd always been a law-abiding citizen; a deeply-ingrained moral code guided her every action. Yet when every day is just as golden as the next, the golds turn to sickly yellows and the honey is too sweet to savour. They were happy, yes, but it was a lifeless, mechanical sort of happiness. With no evil to inject conflict into society -- all that was kept to the East and West, thank-you-very-much -- the same old machine just rolled on and on, churning out blandly content days one after the other.

She empathised with him on that count: sheer, unadulterated _boredom_. Though she was blind, it felt as if she was the only one who could see.

A person less scrupulous than Terezi would have livened up society themselves, shocking it to the core and watching the cracks form. But of course, her principles wouldn't even let the _idea_ form.

Perhaps it would be different in the Emerald City, she'd thought. At the meeting point of North & South and East & West, surely she could get her teeth into some meaty unrests there?

But if even the Wizard himself was a fraud, then perhaps the life she'd live there would be even more false than the one she'd lived in the South.

Well, none of that mattered now: she'd found a city's worth of conflict, and he was right in front of her.

A city's worth? No, more than that. Her life's worth.

She'd been sitting silently, listening in fascination to his tale. Now his shielded eyes stared into her unseeing eyes for a response.

Her answer wasn't with eyes, but with lips.

For the first time, he felt somebody understood. Didn't see him as strange or wrong or a threat; didn't just say what a pity it was to be like that out of any forced obligation, didn't even just walk on by and not let his overcomplicated life and death infect their one-track existences.

She _understood_ him. And she _embraced_ him -- literally. So he reciprocated, arms holding her so close it felt like they were one.

For one whose domain was Heart, it was surprising how he'd broken hearts far more often than he'd filled them. He'd tided his own over with faux-romantic flurries, yet each only left him yearning for stability. His brush with the man of his dreams had only convinced him that true love was unattainable; his suicide had put any chances he still had to an end. So how could he be here now in the arms of a girl who loved him?

His mind didn't know. But his heart did.

With mortal body dead, he was a force of Heart alone. With heart incomplete, he'd been nothing a lost soul. Now that he'd opened up his heart to someone who'd accepted everything and loved him for it...

Reborn, the God of Heart and his love shone brighter than the Yellow Brick Road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT** (and now outdated, see edit) **NOTE:** This isn't actually finished.
> 
> It's a few minutes past midnight, but I had to post _something_.  
>  Thing is, I still haven't decided on an ending for this. I have two ideas: do you want the happy one or the bittersweet one? Or do you want a sad one? Or a completely random one out of left field? AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION YAY
> 
> Also Bro kinda ended up more like just older!Dirk in this fic. But hey, Dirk's one of my favourite characters, so yeah. I never turn down a chance to write Dirk. (Terezi is also one of my favourite characters. But do I really need to say that?)
> 
> Tomorrow's prompt! Or... later today's prompt, seeing as I'm already a few minutes into tomorrow. Huh. Let's see, then...  
> 'Disciple ♣ Aranea/Matchsticks, Flower Shop AU, “Don't you dare!”'  
> This is the most beautiful mess I have ever seen. Till the next time, then!
> 
> EDIT: Ending complete, and I went for happy! I was going to go with the bittersweet one, initially, but that involved Terezi's death -- got as far as writing about half of it, saw the latest Homestuck update, decided the _last_ thing I wanted was dead Terezi and went for the fluffy living happy ending instead. Happy Terezi happy happy happy no death happy Pyrope endings all round what do you mean she's mortally wounded and about to burn to death in lava nope that is not a thing that is happening at all ever nope nope nope nope nope. help
> 
> (Thing is, I've gone and tired myself out before I could write the next chapter. This fic-a-day thing isn't really working out, is it... there may have to be a change of plan...)


	8. Disciple ♣ Aranea/Matchsticks, Flower Shop AU, “Don't you dare!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "daily"

Up in smoke went the petunias.

Aranea dashed round with flowerpots full of water, desperate to douse all the fires before the shop opened at eight. Eight minutes to get the inferno out...

Well, okay, hardly quite on the level of "inferno" yet. Those were certainly some bonafide blazes smouldering away, though. And she could swear they kept multiplying all the time. Knowing the little rotter, he'd probably installed a camera, linked up a plethora of firelighters and stashed himself away in some cupboard somewhere, remote-controlling the flames and watching the carnage on screen. Or... something.

However the rodent had done it, there was no doubt in Aranea's mind that he had caused this. Bloomin' cheek.

She'd _told_ dear Meu that taking on a work experience student would be a bad idea! And _then_ they'd gone and got the pyromaniac! Whose idea had it been to assign him to a flowershop? A match made surely in the most fiery pit of hell.

Which was what this shop was going to look like if she didn't put out these fires quickly enough. Didn't he carry a miniature fire extinguisher around with him? Fat lot of good that was doing right now.

Oh, and in came the culprit himself. Nonchalant, chewing gum, just casually strolling past his handiwork as if it was no big deal. She had half a mind to lob the flaming marigolds at him. But no, her few shreds of logic left told her: that'd probably get her fired.

Instead she took a moment to simply glare at him, eyes ablaze in rage. "Where. Have. You. **BEEN.** "

He chewed the gum with mouth wide open, making sure she could hear the sucking and poping noises it made. "Went out for a smoke."

"While the shop goes UP in smoke!" She grabbed him by the collar, holding their faces close together. "You take that fire extinguisher of yours and you _put these fires out!_ "

"Nah," the slovenly shit drawled, barely bothering with making his words comprehensible.

Oh, that ugly, low-browed face. Oh, those dim, stye-ridden eyes. Oh, that big, slobbery mouth. The boy looked so disgusting she could...

... she could...

... kiss him...

***

Not long before, the manager of a tiny suburban flower shop had been drinking her morning coffee in Starbucks. As her manicured, green-lacquered nails graced the outside of the cup, she was utterly relaxed --

Until a brief beep alerted her. Pulling back her tailored pinstripe sleeve, she reached the armband and lifted off the Hello Kitty cap -- a clever disguise for... 

The sign of the club. It was _flashing._

**Showtime.**

***

"What you looking at?" grunted the thug. Aranea made a noise like a boiling kettle.

"Why, you... you...!" Kiss him or kill him? Right now, she'd be fine with either.

Agh, fuck it. She leant in for the snog --

 **"STOP RIGHT THERE!"** boomed a voice, powerful and also surprisingly feline. Aranea dropped the boy to see a woman in a starched business suit (adorned with kitty paraphernalia) standing in the doorway, light streaming in behind her and brightening the ashen room. She would look almost exactly like the shop's manager if it weren't for the eyemask.

A club over each eye! She trembled in fear. She'd gone too far, and now the Auspistice League were after her!

"I'm sorry!" she whimpered. The woman hissed; Aranea scattered away from the boy in obedience.

"Don't. Do it. Again."

Aranea nodded, and the woman was gone.

***

With tensions diffused and fear struck into both of them, both Aranea and the student worked diligently that day.

A nagging worry lurked in Aranea's head, though. Something to do with the clubs barely visible in her manager's handbag when she'd walked in a minute after the encounter...?

Ah, probably nothing more than a trinket. This incident would stay between her and the boy forever.

Her, the boy and that mysterious woman...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW I've been lax on this one. Was entirely barren on ideas for it for ages, coupled with the type of writer's block that means you take an hour to decide whether to use the word "marigolds" or "petunias"... Ah well, done now!
> 
> NEXT!  
> "Terezi ♣ Sawtooth/Nepeta, Avatar AU"  
> ... Generator's on top form, it seems.


End file.
